


"We're safe here."

by FeralCreed



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale, Wrongful Imprisonment, faked suicide reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: Because I don't believe that James would permanently give up his freedom to live out his life on a labour plantation in the middle of nowhere, canon or no. Talking, then kissing, then fighting, then running, then more kissing. Teen rating for non-graphic violence.





	"We're safe here."

He's a different man now. In the few short months that he's been away from the sea, he's both settled and grown more restless. Like any other pirate, he misses the lurch of a deck under his feet, the slack and tightening of rigging in his hands. But there's another man, solid and real and warm in the night. The reason that James came here, the reason that he stayed. At the time he had only hoped, but now he knows that he made the right choice. Regardless of where he's been, his heart is where he belongs.

 

Thomas is home for him. Neither hold any love for the walls around them, or the guards whose heavy footsteps at times interrupt hushed words against skin. But despite the fact that they're in prison, James is already creating plans of their future life. Life outside these walls. He and Thomas talk about it, and he has to coax the other man sometimes, but he knows that he will forever long for the sea when it's been taken away from him. A man and his lover must separate on their own terms, though James will forever choose warm skin over cold water if he were asked to.

 

And despite the comfort here, he wants Thomas to be free. He has no plans to return to Nassau. While he would likely be able to rely on the men he left there, his desire to be known as Captain Flint has faded. For what pull have jewels and gold when pitted against a strong body and soft heart? James made his choice in Savannah, when John had convinced him to take this route. That's also part of the reason he wishes to go somewhere else – Silver his name, silver his tongue, and James would likely be inclined toward anything he was being encouraged to do in the first place.

 

So he plans for the future and shares the past. Many stories about battles and fights and killing men. But more about a crewmate's laugh across a fire, of tankards crashing together in a warm inn, of nights spent watching the crew sleep on deck during the summer heat. He talks about James' life, not Flint's, of the good parts of his life at sea, even after he'd lost someone of importance. And he asks Thomas, only once, about what had happened to him in the asylum before he was transferred to the estate.

 

“I have had many words in the past, James, for you and for others. But on that subject, I wish to remain silent if you would accept it.”

 

“You owe me nothing,” he answers, equally quiet. He reaches up, traces a finger across the other man's cheek and presses his thumb to Thomas' lower lip. “It was my insistence, and my foolishness...”

 

“No. I could have stopped you at any time. The fault belongs to both of us. And you were left to a worse fate than me, believing me dead. I'm not happy about how things went, far from it. But I was not a helpless bystander as our fates declined. You were my partner, in more ways than one. We were equals, and I let you make a choice for both of us, and knew what the consequences might entail.”

 

James doesn't refute it, which is close enough to accepting it as he's ever gotten. Thomas slides a hand across his stomach and up across his ribs, letting his fingertips pause between each one. Neither of them are skinny enough for his fingers to catch on bone beneath skin, but he's caught James frowning at his thinner stature more than once. He doesn't care much himself, knew that he was bound to be different after being kidnapped from his home and all but sold into slavery. But it's clear that it bothers James more than he admits.

 

“We're safe here,” Thomas whispers, his main argument against them trying to leave. If James is ever matched to Flint, there will be people who insist on finding them, for good or evil. And what use will riches do them? He wants nothing more than to be able to earn his keep with his day's work, and that's what he does here, as much as he'd be doing outside these walls.

 

“You have nobody left alive who wishes you to stay here,” is James' predictable reply. And it's true. The issue of the pardons was settled ten years ago when its main supporters had disappeared to disgrace, and James had oh-so-tactfully dealt with the issue of his traitorous father. Thomas couldn't say he'd been sad to hear of the man's passing. It had only been justice for his death to come at James' hands, and in a way, at times, he wishes he was there for it himself.

 

“Once you find somewhere for us to go, I'll follow you. You're not about to believe any more stories about me now, and go off fighting the world.” It had been startling to hear that James had been told he'd committed suicide. And even more unsettling, in a way, to know that his lover had believed it, had thought that he could do it. But then again, imprisonment changed a man, even more so in an asylum. Thomas had been relieved beyond measure to be released, even if it was to a life of hard labour.

 

“Not Nassau,” James says, as if he has to. “Somewhere a longboat oar would be mistaken for a shovel?”

 

Thomas laughs, low but all the sweeter for how long it's been since James last heard it. “You remember _The Odyssey_?” he asks. A smile stays on his lips.

 

“I remember _Marcus Aurelius_ better,” he admits. “But I always wondered if you'd ask me to leave the sea one day.”

 

“Depends on if you'd need me to ask. When the time comes, it comes. You know your own heart. And I will not turn it from something it truly longs for.”

 

“And if it longs to have you aboard a ship with me, maybe a pirate ship? What would we tell people to think of us?”

 

“James, my truest love, know no shame,” Thomas reminds him softly.

 

James smiles at him and moves his hand to cover Thomas' own, thumb brushing over knuckles. He shifts his knee to the outside of the other man's hip and uses the the weight of his body to nudge him to lay flat. Even in the darkness, he can catch the outline of his mouth, see his eyes reflecting the few pricks of starlight that slip in through the loosely shuttered windows. Even in the darkness, he's beautiful.

 

He leans down and kisses him, humming in contentment when Thomas opens his mouth and allows for him to have complete access. They spend long minutes lost in each other, and in moments like this, James can forget about anyone that's not inside the walls of their room. Right now, that's nobody but his lover, and he's the only thing he wants to focus on. When he noses at Thomas' throat, leaves a line of kisses down the column of his neck, the other man arches beneath him, his noise of encouragement soft and breathy in James' ears.

 

“Please,” he whispers, and James bites at Thomas' lower lip.

 

“Please what?” he asks.

 

“Anything.”

 

It's vague, but James can work with that. Hell, he likes it, when Thomas trusts him enough to give him all control. Their love isn't the same as when they considered themselves secure in the title of 'Lord Hamilton', but it's not entirely different either. Sometimes James thinks he has it figured out, only to realise that he doesn't, and maybe never did. But having Thomas here is far more than enough. The man tenses just before he rolls to flip them, and James lets him, allows himself to be pinned to the thin mattress just hard enough that the grip on his wrists threatens to turn painful. Thomas is stronger now, and not just physically.

 

He wonders, sometimes, in a half-hazy way, what the man above him thinks at such times. But he tends to decide it doesn't matter, as long as they're both happy in the here and now. And in some ways they are. James will never be fully satisfied until they're freed, but it doesn't matter when Thomas distracts him. When it's dark, and quiet, and the sound of the roll of the waves is replaced by crickets and heavy breathing. On nights like this, when he stifles a gasp and grips Thomas' waist hard enough to bruise in lieu of encouragement.

 

Yet there's something wrong. James regretfully tilts his head to the side, away from his lover's seeking mouth, and shushes him. The other man pulls back a little, poised and waiting to be told what's wrong, a man with the obedience of a soldier and the intelligence of a survivor. His soft panting is a siren's call. But instead of capitulating, James taps his side and quietly gets up to go to the door.

 

Steps outside the door. Rasp of wood on cloth. Guards, for some reason. They've paused a few feet away, probably consulting with each other to see how close they are to their target. James can hear whispering but not the words. He'd bet that he and Thomas are the ones due for whatever the men have planned. Even though they've been allowed to stay together, he knows that their relationship is thought differently of by each man on the estate with them. Most are against it, to some degree or another.

 

The doorknob turns. James waits until the barrel of a rifle is halfway through the door before he grabs it, pushing up and to the right. As expected, the man holding it fires automatically, but the bullet harms nobody, going through the palm-frond roof and beyond. The heat of the recently fired barrel stings his fingers, but his focus is on the person, until a few hard punches give him the opening to grab the man's dagger and slit his throat.

 

By that time, the other three men are shouting loud enough to wake the dead. Only one of them is smart enough to fumble to bring his gun to bear. He drops it as James nears him in favour of going for the pistol in his belt, but that does nothing to save him from the low, hard thrust of a blade. It does, however, add to the pirate's small, impromptu arsenal. Clearly these men had no idea who he was. Shooting the third in the chest, he drops the pistol as he advances on the fourth with the bloody blade in his hand. The man fires wildly, slug grazing his shoulder, and then he drops his weapon and flees. James chases him, and they only make it a few yards before he tackles him to the ground.

 

Surprisingly, the guard gets the upper hand for a moment, slamming the side of his head into the ground, but that doesn't put James down despite the blood flowing down the side of his face. He lost his grip on the dagger for a moment, and the fight turns hand-to-hand and breathless, but then the other man grunts like someone hit him and is easily pushed to the side. Thomas is standing there, holding the rifle that the second guard had dropped. The stock has a dark sheen of blood on one corner and James immediately realises what happened.

 

“You're all right?” he asks, getting up and reaching to probe at his shoulder. His fingers come back bloody, as expected, but the injury doesn't seem serious enough to warrant concern. Thomas says something in answer, but he hears nothing beyond the word 'yes' before he takes two long strides and kisses him. A surprised noise and then pliant lips, and James huffs a relieved sigh against his cheek.

 

“Cap'n Flint, sir?” says a voice. It's the newest addition to their little world, a boy still in his teens who had arrived yesterday. “Long John Silver sent me,” he explains, gaze fixed on the dead men. When he finally looks up, there's fear in his eyes that hadn't been there the day before. “He said that he figured you would be wanting to escape on your own by now, and if we set the watch tower on fire, he'd have men here inside half an hour.”

 

“We can't hold any position here for half an hour,” Thomas points out. He's unafraid, James notes, simply stating the truth and letting them make what they would from it. And there's no denying it. Two, maybe three of them with a handful of blades, could hold nowhere against the fully armed guards. They would be shot down, and James will not give his lover over to such a fate.

 

“So we go over the wall and put fire to the tower on the way out.” It's not the craziest thing he's done. He grabs Thomas' wrist and pulls him along, instinctively staying to the shadows rather than taking the shorter, direct route. There had been shouting from nearly the moment they had started moving, the guards attracted by their now-dead fellows' shouting. When they get from the longhouse to the sugar cane, he runs upright, letting go of Thomas' hand in faith that the other man knows to follow him. The guard tower has only one man in it, his partner presumably gone to answer the alarm call. He's distracted, paying more attention to the drama than the men moving just beneath him.

 

James kills him quickly. He has no ill will toward the man, but doesn't favour him either. For now he's simply another thing in their way, of no more importance than the knife he carries or the coat he wears. The body is left where it lays, and James knocks the lantern to the wooden floor. It starts to catch fire quickly, and he ignores the gathering blaze to take the man's rifle and pistol, throwing them over the edge of the wall. He swings his legs over the edge, lets his feet dangle over space. It's not a jump he'd make for fun, but he'll have to. There's no going back now.

 

He hangs by his fingertips for a moment before dropping, landing in a crouch that ends with him falling only to his knees. Thomas is less practiced, and James has to catch him from toppling over when the man lands beside him a moment later, but in another moment they're free and clear of the wall. He picks up the weapons, gives the pistol to Thomas and takes the rifle for himself, and then they're running. Somehow the boy makes it down himself. James hadn't bothered to stop and look, but catches a glimpse of him running in the opposite direction. Rifle fire cracks in the direction he'd gone, but whether he's in trouble or not, he has no desire to go back. Both of them chose their own fate, and despite Thomas' attempts to absolve him, James cannot yet consider him anything but a betrayed, innocent party. His priority is ensuring their escape.

 

“Stay down,” he tells Thomas after a few minutes. They're both short of breath, but the guards' activity is contained within the estate's walls for now. For now the two fugitives are likely yet to be missed, and while James itches to be further away into the scrub, he knows that Silver's men would follow the road. Being near it is their best bet. They both lay flat on their stomachs, panting, and he holds Thomas' hand tightly, to reassure himself that he won't lose him.

 

“Come on,” he says, once Thomas starts breathing easier. It takes a little longer than he'd like, but his lover hasn't spent the last ten years fighting and running as James had, and it's only understandable that they won't be able to keep up the pace he would have subjected his crew to. But they make good time regardless, though even both stumbles over the rough, unfamiliar road in the absence of light.

 

Once the fire in the tower is starting to be put out, the guards start accounting for the men still there. There are three missing, as only those three knew until then. The investigation inside the walls proves fruitless until one of the guards suggests that they went over the wall rather than remaining inside it. As if to prove him right, there's a rapid approach of horses, but they stop before they're within shouting distance. Then there's the fading sound of hoofbeats in the road again, and the truth is made clear. The captain of the guard swears and yells and threatens, but there's nothing to be done about it.

 

J McGraw and T Hamilton are lost to the knowledge of the estate. Word spreads about two escapees from a local labour plantation, but any who know of their passing keep quiet about it. The nearest town is too far to reach on foot and there is no report of a band of horseman passing through anywhere. Their disappearance remains a mystery to all, even the men involved, when the two fugitives leave the rest of the group. Silver puts out a search for him, but the lovers' fate is unknown. Until, far off among the islands, two men kiss on the sand under the stars, and James finds Thomas even more beautiful in freedom. 

 

"We're safe here," Thomas murmurs. 

 

"Yes," James agrees, and lets his lover pin him to the sand. 

 


End file.
